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Sal Moriarty
|born=2468 , |died=2521 |species=Human |gender=Masculine |height=182 centimeters |hair=Auburn |eyes=Brown |era= |affiliation= }} Sal Moriarty was a famous writer, poet and traveler who spent most of the final two decades of the 25th Century visiting the colonies of the United Earth Government. His journeys were most famously documented in his novel: The Spacer Bums: A Tale of a few Lonely Men trying to find Paradise. He was remembered after his death by his lifelong partner Dean Allen Burroughs, whose details are remembered in an interview he undertook shortly before his death. Early Life You want me to talk about Sal? Jesus, where do I fucking begin? Well, I didn't know him my whole life, y'know? A lot of what I can tell you is just what he told me and what his ma and da told me. Is that what you want? It is? Well I guess then I can begin. Do you mind if I light one up? Busting a gut for a cigarette since you sat me down, I have to say. Colony Kid $ I didn't know Sal growing up, we weren't from the same colony you see. He was a typical Harvest boy. Tall, handsome, his body was lean and cut and he was tanned from that big ol' Harvest sun. Had all the girls looking. A real colony kid if ever there was one. Y'know those tales of kids who dreamt of travelling and escaping their colony? That was Sal. From what he told me, he was born to Janice and Thomas Moriarty, bunch o'Lutherans. Real devout too. Said that for as long as he could remember, his ma and pa would march him out to church on Sundays and make him pray until his knees were goddamn aching. Nothing like my own parents, let me tell you. As I was saying, Sal grew up in this proper house, damnation for all outside of our church, y'see? He told me one evening while we lay on the beach on Sigma Octanus IV that he never believed in all that organised religious stuff before he left. Said he couldn't make no sense of it. Said he was lucky his parents happened to have good land, he showed me round his home once, the poverty near him was amazing. I couldn't believe it, can't imagine that poor young boy of five or six even understood what the hell was happening around him. I don't know how much of that shaped him, I'd daresay a lot. But he didn't half talk about that poverty much, he just showed me and we never talked about it again. I never did pay it much mind after that. I think about it a lot though. I daren't think he'd've been who he was without it. Sal was an embodiment of that farm, and I think he knew it. That farm weren't everything for Sal, now, don't get that impression. I remember once his ma sat me down with this big ol' jug of iced tea with lemons they had grown themselves. This was when Sal was in class or out doing something else, I can't rightly mind. But anyway she sat me down and we got talking. She told me Sal loved woodcutting and sculpting. She showed me this beautiful woodcarving of Jesus Christ himself. It sure was beautiful, honestly. I'd no idea how talented he was, but there right in front of me was the astonishing, touching deep work of art. She told me that he'd made this at age sixteen - we were twenty-one when I learnt this. Fine thing to learn, I always knew he was creative. From the first time I met him, I knew he had some creative spark in him. Anyway, she told me that from about the age of twelve, Sal had been bursting with an energy; a creative energy. She said she was always worried about this because it seemed to distract from his religious studies. See, now this was when Sal developed his idea of God. God wasn't this man with a beard who cast you down for sinning in some nebulous fashion. God, to Sal -- and to me -- was the heartbeat of the universe, the pulse of life. He coursed through your veins, and filled you with an energetic purpose to create something immortal. Sal often said as he wrote, 'we are God's works of art, to show him our love we must create our own works of art.' If it wasn't for Harvest, that boy would not have had such a kind open heart. I can vouch for that, being a fellow from Reach, these outer colony folks are just more in tune with themselves and the galaxy and large. I love them as a people. Helped me become who I am today. Now, life on the colony for Sal weren't all work. He and his family were very well regarded in their local community. Sal's father was a reverend in the local church. So Sal already had the freedom of the community as it were. He told me he hated it. People treated him differently, scared of what he might say to his father should they treat him any different. I think it's why he was so reluctant to show me his home town after we finished university. He didn't want me to get this impression of him as a spoilt brat who manipulated his way to acceptance. I knew he weren't like that, Sal was one of the kindest people I ever did know. He kept to himself and only attended the church ceremonies whenever his dad was giving an important sermon. Helped his father so it did, I think his dad always knew Sal weren't the church going type. I think he was proud of him every time he came to church. Well, it's the impression I got, his father always spoke highly of Sal to me. It also was shown through how his dad repaid him for his years of hard work and attendance at church. He allowed his son to go to university off-world. Sal couldn't believe it, he told me not long after I met him how he had always needed to go off-world. Harvest was a great world it just wasn't somewhere he could live the rest of his life. That Harvest character never left him though. It was ingrained in him as much as the sun had turned his skin permanently darker. It's what made him to appealing to us all. He was somebody who let life radiant from himself, it was impossible not to gravitate towards him. He was a colony kid, and we loved him for it. He had a freedom we all wished we had. Education Sal went to the Colonial University of New Kashmir on Mars. He studied history, philosophy and literature did, Sal. Loved learning all he could 'bout his fellow man, y'see. It's who he was, our Sal, had this insatiable thirst for learning that was only partially quenched at that university. But, I'll talk more about that later. Now, when Sal got to the Ol' Bear he immediately put his head down to work as hard as he could - that old Harvest farmer spirit. He felt like he oughta be conscientious in his work ethic. He was a long way from home - thinking about it, I think he was the only one from an outer colony at Ol' Bear - and felt like he had something to prove. See, Sal came to Mars in 2486, and that was when the prejudices against those from the OCs was getting pretty bad. A year prior, it'd been learnt that universities on Earth had been refusing most of the highest achievers from the OCs. So Sal, in getting in, I think felt like he had everyone from Harvest on his shoulders, praying for him to succeed. Lucky for those folk, Sal was as strong as an ox and he didn't let anyone down. His tutors and lecturers loved him dearly. Sal was so keen on absorbing knowledge that he would ask them these delicately phrased questions, not so much about their work, but how they came about to find their passion and how it sustained them. I feel as if he were looking for something. Sal, especially in his first year, was restless. He worked hard, but he told me that nothing gripped him. Not a thing, so in asking those questions he was hoping for the spark of his professors to come to him, to ignite a desire in him. That first year for Sal was as lonely and miserable as a rainstorm on Reach. Heavy and foreboding with no end in sight. Sal being Sal, however, wouldn't let that deter him from proving himself to everyone. And he did. In that first year, he finished consistently in the top five of his class, did Ol' Sal. I remember being in our Colonial Literature class, and he just oozed confidence alongside his melancholy demeanour. He was just a captivating individual who always had something interesting to say. Second year at Ol' Bear, however, was when I really got to know Sal. See, as it happened, we took many of the same classes - both of us internally interested in the writin' coming from the OCs. I had some orientalist notion 'bout how them folks lived, but for Sal, it were more personal. Like I said, OCs weren't exactly popular or plentiful round the Inners, but for one to be studying at a university on Mars? Unheard of. So, naturally, I were drawn to him. He challenged the veracity o'the claims of our teachers in such a way that... that I think it pierced their heart. This definitely were some of thems first time chattin' to a proper colony kid. Sal didn't match up. I mean he did, but not in the way they imagined? Sal was tall, dark and very handsome - so naturally, they thought, he oughta not be one too bright. You've read Sal's works, ain't ya miss? You know how brightly he shone. But getting back on topic, after his first real confrontation with a professor, I impressed myself upon dear Sal. "Hello, Sal," I says. "Hello," he says. First conversation I ever had with him. Now, my heart were racing after this; decided I'd go home and study as many OC poets as I could, desperate to impress him. Our second conversation was also a disaster for me. Sal saw right through what I was doing, but, he took pity on me. So instead he pointed me towards his own favourite poets, the ones who had soothed his disquieted soul on those warm windless Harvest nights. So I spent that evening, devouring the words of these OC oracles, my heart and soul growing ever closer to Sal's in a spiritual union; fused together by the importance of words. That began a special connection between us, one that I didn't think would ever be possible. If you reach into my jacket pocket there, you'll find the first book of poetry he ever gave me. I still use to warm my heart. All in all, I think university were a good thing for Sal. It really let him discover who he was, and what he wanted to do in the galaxy, y'know? By the time we were in our third year, Sal really came to grow sick a'the place. He never really let me know why he did get so sick a'it, but I have my own guesses. See, like I said, Sal were an OC kid. Ol' Bear were full of them rich Systemer kids. Do you know that term, ma'am? It's an ol' un. Refers to folk from Earth, Luna and Mars. Not used much nowadays but back then Systemers used t'get a lotta doors opened just from being from Sol. They resented most folk not from the System, but in particular the Frontier kids. Sal was the Frontier kid. Now, like I say, Sal never rightly told me what happened but it was possible to spot a few grievances he experienced now and then. He used to come back to our place with a slight limp. His books would be tattered - Sal treated books with saintlike reverence. Ne'er a dent or crease on any o'the books he owned throughout his life. For Sal, he'd always believed that university was a play of enlightenment, but it quickly turned out to be a place of enlightened bigotry. As much as I am loathe t'admit it, I implored for him to quit. Told 'im I'd go with him. Sal looked at me as if I were a fool, I felt like a fool, lemme tell ya. He said, "no Dean. I'd be proving them right if I left." And I said, "well so?" and he said, "Dean, they believe us outers to be lazy ne'er-do-wells. I stay, do well? For the first time in their lives their sense of self is challenged." I think he believed himself too. Anything to get himself through those dark days. He stayed, reluctantly. If only for the idea that it was an act of defiance. I don't think those systemers ever gave Sal a second thought, and when one of those under-achievers got valedictorian it was a vindication of their sense of smugness, their selves still very much unshaken. Still, by 2489 we were graduates. Happy and in love. The stars awaited us, and we both felt immeasurable excitement about the future. Discovering Wanderlust Writing Career Colonial Travels Marriage Death Personality Perhaps the best word t'describe Sal's personality is warm. He was a bundle of warmth t'everyone he did meet. He was gregarious, I daresay it was his Lutheran pastor father that did instil such gregariousness. I don't want t'sound hyperbolic in my description, but I never did meet someone with such a warm demeanour. Sal always tried t'